


She's Got the Look

by asmodesgold



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmodesgold/pseuds/asmodesgold
Summary: Sonny looks at Rafael in a way no one else ever has.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to booyahkendell, my beta!
> 
> Inspired by the screenshot posted below.

 

 

It’s the middle of their third date and Rafael is telling Sonny about how, during his first year at Harvard, one of the other residents nearly started his dorm on fire by burning a bag of popcorn. As he’s just finishing describing the layout of the building, he looks up from his wine to see Sonny listening to him with such a soft, attentive, and open look on his face, that it robs the words from Rafael’s lips. He takes another sip and glances quickly at the timer on his stove out of the corner of his eye. There’s still eight minutes before dinner is ready.

 

His attention returns to Sonny, who’s still waiting patiently for him to continue with that same...Rafael isn’t sure that anyone's ever looked at him like that. Like he’s beautiful, wonderful, worthy of every iota of someone’s respect and attention. His head and chest feel warm, and he can’t seem to remember what he was talking about.

 

Neither of them has said anything and it should be awkward, but Sonny isn’t shying away from looking him in the eye. As another minute of silence passes, Sonny’s lips curl up just slightly at the ends, and to Rafael he looks so beautiful that, without his explicit permission, he’s setting his cup down and reaching across the table with his left hand, hooking it around the back of Sonny’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

 

This wasn’t how he’d planned their first kiss: over the bread sticks Sonny said he’d made from scratch with his nana’s recipe, the classical music on his radio not quite blocking out the couple arguing with their teenage son next door or the dog vocally expressing its outrage at being out on somebody’s balcony, the timer ringing loudly from the counter forcing Sonny to pull back with a quick apology.

 

He pulls out the pot roast, setting it on some previously laid out trivets, and hustles back to his seat, still apologizing. Rafe reclines in his seat and smiles lazily at him, his words finally finding their way back to him.

“No apologies necessary, I appreciate you not trying to burn my building down.”

 

Sonny grins widely at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Rafe swallows heavily, hiding it behind another drink of alcohol. He’s fucked, he tells himself, because this man is sweet and adorable and he never should’ve agreed to the first date because he should’ve known that they’d get along so well that it would lead to more, would lead to Rafael letting Sonny further and further in until he’s under every inch of skin, in every corner of his soul, so ingrained in every facet of his life that if it goes bad it’ll -

 

There’s a hand on his, pushing the glass back to the table.

 

“Hey,” Sonny says softly. “Save some room for dinner.”

 

Only a quarter of the wine remains in his glass, and Rafael idly wonders how that happened. Sonny is still giving him that look of pure adoration that stirs up all sorts of unfamiliar feelings in him. He resolves to find a way to break this off, gently, though, so that Sonny doesn’t get hurt, (he doesn’t deserve that, it’s not his fault) and maybe they can still be friends, though Rafael can’t even seem to make and keep any of those, let alone a significant other, so it really was stupid of him to allow this to begin in the first place -

 

Again, Sonny breaks through his downward spiraling thoughts, this time with a gentle press of their lips together. Rafael’s eyelids flutter closed for a brief second.

 

“Come back to me,” Sonny says, pulling away just far enough to search his face.

 

Rafael nods and leans forward, allowing their lips to embrace once more in a slow dance. Those feelings flow through him again and his mind threatens to return to its earlier depressive path, but he forces himself to stay focused on the present; he focuses on the way Sonny’s breath mingles with his, how his skin smells vaguely of a cologne that he remembers recommending to the detective some months ago. He focuses on the little moans that he can just barely hear coming from deep in Sonny’s throat, the hint of teeth and tongue they’re sharing, the fingers foraging a path from his cheeks to the back of his head, the way Sonny’s hair tangles in his own fingers, the solid table he’s bracing himself on with his other hand that’s in complete contrast to the soft lips waltzing with his.

 

Eventually, Sonny has to leave him again in order to dish up the food, waving off Rafael’s offer to help. The sight of him making himself at home in Rafael’s kitchen causes his mind to wander off again, but this time it’s towards the recent memory of Sonny happily bouncing around, singing off-key to some tawdry pop song, as he prepared the dinner; then further backwards towards him setting his shoes and coat next to Rafael’s just inside the door, and suddenly his train of thought does a complete one eighty and it’s hurtling towards the future, a future where both sides of the bed are being used, where there’s arguments in his walk in closet over just how little room is left in there, where the TV is never left on because now there’s an actual person making noise in his apartment, where he organizes birthday parties for Sonny where they jump out from hiding places because he’s ninety percent sure that Sonny would be into cheesy crap like that.

 

He’ll blame the wine for the warm glow radiating through his body, but some part of him admits that it’s the man setting down a delectable home cooked meal, on plates that have only ever seen take out, in front of them that’s at fault.

 

They bow their heads and Sonny says grace.

 

“Dig in,” Sonny says happily, already following his own advice. “We interviewed some members of a vegan club today who started tryin’ to tell us all these diseases you can get from meat even after it’s cooked all the way through.”

 

“And this is dinner conversation because?” Rafael asks, dusting his potatoes with salt and pepper.

 

Sonny shrugs, talking around the food in his mouth. Rafael knows every bit of high class he’s tried to instill into himself in order to put some distance between him and the Bronx is telling him that Sonny can’t be seen eating like that at the functions Rafael goes to, but the part of him that watched Sonny spend hours trying to ensure that the food currently making his mouth water in anticipation was perfect for their date is arguing that Rafael himself often eats like that, he’s just more mindful of his actions while in polite company. And what is Sonny if not quick-learning and eager to make others happy? Surely he’d be more than willing and able to follow Rafael’s lead on those occasions.

 

Not to mention, having someone who's not only at his side but also on his side throughout the various events he's obligated to attend would make them bearable, if not enjoyable.

 

“Just, ya know, if you get sick from this, it ain’t my fault. Don't want you trying to prosecute me for man two from your deathbed.”

 

Rafael scoffs.

 

“Wouldn't I have to come back from the dead for it to be manslaughter?”

 

“Nah, I’m sure you could convince a judge that the impending, inevitable death that was a direct result of the meal I made were sufficient grounds for a man charge.”

 

He passes the butter to Rafael, who scoops some out, adding to his potatoes.

 

“And the DA is going to let me prosecute my own case why? For some macabre Make-A-Wish thing?”

 

Sonny laughs, but then stares at his plate, his expression falling.

 

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe I should’ve gone with the pasta instead, what if you do get sick and -”.

 

Rafael watches him wax on about the potential negative outcomes of their dinner for a moment before he interrupts.

 

“Sonny,” he says, pouring each of them more wine. Sonny silently follows his movements with his eyes as Rafael proceeds to cut himself a piece of the beef and plop it in his mouth. “I’ll take the risk.”

  
Sonny’s answering grin is enough.


End file.
